


Memories

by sometimes_i_english



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Mentions of homophobia, No really it isn't, this isn't angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-31
Updated: 2013-07-31
Packaged: 2017-12-21 23:19:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/906131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sometimes_i_english/pseuds/sometimes_i_english
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn and Liam have a conversation (it’s more interesting than this, I promise)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memories

**Author's Note:**

> So last year I read this play called “Luz negra" (Black light) from Alvaro Menen Desleal, which is basically two heads (of two beheaded men) talking to each other; and I’ve shamefully taken the main idea of it, although the main plot and writing style are completely different (I promise!) If anyone has a chance of reading the actual book, I highly recommend you do it because it makes for an interesting study of life and death and the desperation of not dying of a human being. That said, do please leave a critic or comment of this, it’d be greatly appreciated :)

If anyone asked him, he’d say it felt…odd. Different than anything he could’ve imagined, and did imagine, at least. Being beheaded, odd, not entirely unpleasant; except maybe for all that warm blood that kept gushing out of his neck while his head just rolled helplessly to the side, finally landing on his nape.

 

Odd. He could still see the sky.

 

Maybe the executioner had done something wrong. As far as Liam knew, beheading someone had a bit of a permanent stop in death.

 

“How annoying” he huffed in annoyance, people were already vacating the plaza they’d used to parade their deaths. A symbol of oppression; a warning for the people. He saw some of his so-called friends cheering amongst the public as he claimed his stage.

 

“Assholes” he muttered again

 

“What?” someone asked

 

“Zayn?” Liam asked, a happy grin already spreading his lips at the boy’s voice

 

“I’m here” he answered

 

“Where?” Liam asked “Where did your head land?”

 

There was a beat where the only sound was the shuffling of feet as people walked away. “Under the platform” Zayn answered.

 

Liam took his time to relish in the absent presence of his…friend. And only then did he take notice on the man’s voice and intonation. “Are you angry Zayn? Are you mad at me?”

 

“Oh, I don’t know Liam” the man spat “my head has just been severed from my body; you tell me if I’m angry”

 

The plaza was deserted by then and Liam wondered if anyone would get there to pick them up, or if they planned on leaving their bodies to rot as means of better delivering the message.

 

“I’m sorry” he finally said

 

“Not your fault” the other conceded

 

“Still”

 

“’s fine” Zayn grumbled.

 

It was nearing noon and the sun blazed on his eyes, forcing him to keep them shut against it; his skin was prickly with sweat and the heat seemed to be speeding his body’s decomposition process. Flies began to round him.

 

“Why do you think we’re not dead?” he wondered

 

“Maybe we are” and fuck Zayn and his amazing and mysterious and ambiguous brain, he loved it all.

 

“Yeah, maybe we are” he gritted “how are we talking?”

 

“Mmmm”

 

“Do you think if we yell someone would hear?”

 

“We can try” because Zayn always indulged him, always, since the exact day they met until the exact day they were executed.

 

“Ok. Ok, let’s wait until someone comes around, yeah?”

 

“Ok”

 

“What will we yell though?”

 

“Ummm” Liam mussed for a second “Let’s yell a word, let’s yell ‘hi’. Yeah, that sounds right”

 

“Alright, we’ll yell hi” Zayn chuckled before huffing loudly and swearing.

 

“What happened” Liam asked and, for the first time, felt frustrated at being nothing but a head; thus being unable to reach or move or even crane his neck and look at Zayn.

 

“A stupid fly came to rest on my nose” Zayn grumbled and it was probably a really bad idea, but Liam just laughed; laughed and laughed between Zayn’s profanities until a fly went into his mouth.

 

And he realized he wasn’t breathing.

 

“Zayn” he called “Zayn, are you breathing?”

 

“Of course I’m breathing!” Zayn answered immediately “What kind of shitty question is that?”

 

Oh, Liam thought, he’s moody

 

“No, Zayn, try; seriously, try and breath” he urged in desperation.

 

A few seconds went by and more flies went to rest on his face and eat from his body. He wondered briefly if Zayn had his same predicament or if Zayn could see his own corpse where he was.

 

“I’m not…I’m not breathing” and Liam wanted to hit himself because Zayn sounded, not in awe or wonder, but scared; utterly scared. Maybe as scared as a week before when they were collected.

 

“It’s ok, it’s ok” he tried “Zayn, do you remember when we met?”

 

“Yeah” Zayn huffs a laugh “how could I not?”

 

“Ummm, me too”

 

It’s true, Liam remembered, he remembered every single awake moment he’d spent with Zayn.

 

They’d met on a summer day, a sunny summer day; which should’ve been proverbial enough for him to guess where him and that boy would be going. Zayn was five years younger than him, the son of a friend; the intriguing son of a friend.

 

After their first meeting a form of friendship bloomed between them, the dark haired boy was interesting and smart and witty. He kept Liam on his toes, wondering what he’d do next, when his mood would strike or when he’d laugh so hard his face would scrunch and his nose would wrinkle with mirth.

 

“Would you pose for me?” Zayn had asked one day

 

“Pose?” he’d said unintelligently

 

Zayn had only nodded “I want to draw you”

 

And it was Zayn’s fault that he’d agree, because he’d looked at him under his infinite eyelashes with those eyes full of treasures specked through golden dust.

 

Liam ended sprawled naked in his library while prying eyes examined every corner of his skin. Delicate fingers moving fast and surely.

 

“Charcoal is my favourite” Zayn muttered

 

“Is it?” Liam retorted, there was nothing to do about the blush that had already spread itself over his cheeks and chest.

 

“Would you like to know why?” the bastard smirked

 

“Would you tell me if I did?” two could play a game

 

“Mmmm, yeah, maybe”

 

And that had been enough, to sit day after day, exposing himself for a boy to study him. That had been enough for him to fall helplessly in love with him.

 

Homosexuality was banned from the Country.

 

Being in love with another man was terrifying, and Liam planned on never acting on it.

 

“Liam” the sound of his name sounded so distant “Liam!”

 

He blinked at the sinking sun, it was getting late and he was somewhat thankful for not being able to breath. From the state his corpse seem in, it was only advisable to not smell it.

 

“What?” he asked

 

“Just wondering why you were so quite” Zayn mumbled

 

“Sorry, just remembering” he sighed, as the words died out footsteps echoed around them “someone’s coming” he said

 

“No shit, Sherlock” Zayn deadpanned, but Liam could hear the smirk on his voice

 

“Shit” he cursed

 

“What?” Zayn asked

 

“I can’t see a thing” he whined

 

“It’s a girl” Zayn told him “a little girl, can’t be older than eight, in a white dress”

 

“Oh” the thought made him want to cry, because he’d wanted children, a house full of sound and Zayn’s kisses on his face while their babies ran around their knees “Say the word” he chocked

 

“Are you ok?”

 

“Yes! Just say the word, Zayn”

 

“Fine!” Zayn hissed “What was the word again?”

 

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” and he knew if he’d still had his body he’d be throwing his hands up in exasperation “Hi, Zayn, hi is the word”

 

“Oh, yeah” Zayn answered “Oh shit! Motherfucker” he swore

 

“What? What?”

 

“She put a handkerchief on my head! Now I can’t see anything!” he sounded angry

 

“Did she hear you?” Liam asked

 

“I couldn’t say it, she left too soon”

 

“Fuck!” he swore “whatever, we’ll wait for someone else”

 

Flies kept on buzzing around him, walking on his face and stepping on his eyes; making his skin crawl with repulsion and frustration.

 

“Fucking flies” he mutters, moving his eyelids in a futile attempt at driving them away, just for them to go back.

 

“At least this handkerchief keeps those away” Zayn sighs

 

“Hey Zayn”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Could you see your body from where you are? You know, before the girl put that clothe on you” his voice shakes a little with hesitation and the nerves that arise from the possibility of asking a forbidden question.

 

“…” Liam wishes he could hear Zayn breathing “No, no, I couldn’t. I could figure the outline of one of my arms but that was it”

 

He sounded distressed, as if the question hadn’t exactly offended him, but reminded him of the pitiful situation they both were in.

 

“How did we end here, Liam?”

 

And Liam knew, he knew how they ended there; but maybe saying that would do nothing to dissipate Zayn’s discomfort or hopelessness. Because they were hopeless, there was no doubt of that.

 

Liam had chosen not to say anything, Liam had chosen not to act on anything, Liam had chosen to try and not feel a thing.

 

So he saw Zayn, every day. His hazel eyes skimming over Liam’s skin until the drawing was done and after that to keep up, chat over whiskey or drink tea. Zayn’s presence in his life became overbearing.

 

It enveloped him, surrounded him in a way where he had no escape and had to drown in order to subsist. Where he found himself tugging on his hard sex every night with thoughts of the boy’s lips and his misty fingers wrapped around him. Where he learnt what it was to invade his asshole and tease thick fingers inside until it wasn’t enough.

 

“You’re strange”

 

“Mm?” Liam looks up from the book he’d been staring into “I’m sorry?”

 

“You’re strange” Zayn chuckled in amusement

 

“Ummm thanks?”

 

“I mean, you’re stranger than usual; you act like you’re avoiding me. Or not me” he shook his head, maybe trying to clear his thoughts “like you’re avoiding looking me in the eye” his eyes effectively locking with Liam’s and making the latter turn his face “or talking about too profound subjects” every word was a step closer to where Liam sat “like you don’t want to touch me” Zayn hand slid across Liam’s broad shoulders, a soft caress planting goosebumps on his way; and Liam wondered if Zayn would pick up on his intentions, on the filth that hid in the dark corners of his bedroom and skirted the sides of his mind.

 

“Charcoal is my favourite because it’s both a sharp edge and a smudged line at the same time” his voice a mere whisper, the puff of a summer day into his ear.

 

And Liam remembered it had already been eighteen months since the first time they were introduced, and only a little more than a year since that drawing got started, and less than that year since it was finished.

 

And over seven months since his nights began to be plagued by dark haired boys with an art obsession.

 

“Do you find me disgusting?”

 

“What?” Zayn’s words took him by surprise “Why would I find you disgusting?” he asked back, his brow furrowed in confusion.

 

Zayn shrugged “Haven’t you figured it out?” he whispered “that I’m, you know, one of those…homosexuals”

 

His words kept an unsteady stream of air, insecure of themselves, a small secret whispered in the enormity of its meaning.

 

“I have nothing against homosexuals” Liam shrugged, a small smile tugging at Zayn’s face “Who you love changes nothing of the boy I know, you remain you”

 

Zayn’s smile wavered the slightest and slipped from his eyes as he surveyed Liam cautiously “What if I told you I’ve placed my bets on you?”

 

His brain must have been fogged, because he couldn’t have heard that right; and even if he had, the implications of accepting it were far too daunting. By the time he’s caught with the situation, Zayn was already walking backwards to the door, an apologetic smile on his lips. And the thunder of unshed tears raking his eyes.

 

“Wait” Liam shot up from his seat, jogging to catch with Zayn “wait” he repeated, his fingers already curled around one of Zayn’s wrists.

 

“I’m sorry” Zayn said, eyes trained on the floor and shoulders sagging against the disappointment of that day “I was never going to tell you” he huffs a humourless laugh “this was not supposed to happen. Good bye Liam”

 

Catching up with his retreating form wasn’t the hard part. Seeing his saddened expression was part of the hard part. Actually reaching for him and acknowledging himself, that, that was the hardest part for Liam.

 

Because he’d be lying if he didn’t admit how scared he was.

 

How much the law of the Country against homosexuals scared him, how they’d both probably be dead if anyone found out. How much it scared him to know how little he cared when the prospect of having a single moment with Zayn.

 

Heavy footsteps echoed around the plaza, grabbing Liam back from his reverie. “Zayn, do you hear that?”

 

“Yeah, but now I can’t see who it is” he huffed back

 

“It doesn’t matter” Liam replied slowly “let me yell at him when he gets close enough”

 

“Yeah, sure, do as you please” Zayn sounded annoyed “but tell me Liam, what are you planning to do if that person actually hears you? There’s no possibility for your head to be glued to your…”

 

“Sh! The footsteps are getting stronger” his voice was urgent “HI!” he yelled “HIIII!!!! HIIIIIII!!!”

 

Yet the footsteps didn’t stop; whoever it was stuttered on his step, maybe repulsed by the crude spectacle, and continued on. Liam deflated.

 

Did that mean that they were, in fact, dead?

 

How could they talk to each other then?

 

What was happening?

 

It was already late, the first drops of ink falling into the sky and painting it black; waiting for the moon to rise.

 

“They didn’t hear you” Zayn said faintly, and it occurred to Liam that maybe Zayn was also hopping for someone to find them.

 

“No, they didn’t”

 

How discouraging, he thought.

 

Zayn had been standing for a while, doing nothing but gazing into the night sky from the window of Liam’s living room. They had been quite, so quite. Not even the usual sounds that filled the night would break the air.

 

Thick fingers had wrapped around Zayn’s wrist, effectively stopping him from leaving, turning him so their eyes were locked on each other. A moment of tension, such a cliché and yet so full of actual expectation.

 

And Liam had surged, fuelled by too many lonely nights in his fist and wishful thoughts of hazel eyes, he’d surged and pressed an almost forced kiss on Zayn’s lips.

 

It took him a moment to realize Zayn was crying, tears stained his cheeks and trailed Liam’s own.

 

“Hey, hey. I’m sorry” he urged, stepping away from the boy, not sure of what to do or if his stomach was just sick or plummeting with rejection. Maybe it had been a joke; maybe there really was no world in which Zayn could think about him in the same way Liam thought about Zayn.

 

“No, wait” Zayn reached for him, tugging him back and pressing himself along the line of Liam’s body “sorry, sorry. I’m just really happy” he smiled.

 

And with that small confession every one of Liam’s fears multiplied by tenfold.

 

“How long do you reckon we’ve been here?” Zayn asked, once again pulling him from his thoughts. Maybe it was true people saw their lives before dying.

 

“Who knows?” Liam said sleepily “It’s really dark already and people aren’t passing by, though that could have more to do with the two corpses rather than the hour” he snorted

 

“Hey Liam”

 

“What?”

 

“I loved you, I still love you” Zayn said

 

“I love you” Zayn’s voice sounded rough and breathless, his face barely visible through the moonlight; they were tangled in sweaty sheets. Filled and sated, skin on skin, no boundaries, nothing to distinguish one from the other.

 

The smell of sex permeated the room and inundated Liam’s nostrils. “Yeah, yeah. I know” he answered, because he was a coward and because he was still biding his time; praying and begging that it wasn’t true.

 

“I’m sorry”

 

“What? Why?”

 

“I’m sorry my dad ratted us out” Liam could hear Zayn’s tears and for a moment, he forgot how they’d be taken the next morning; how they’d be dead next morning. All he could see and think about was the boy in his arms, hiding under the covers of his bed. The same boy he’d met some years ago and the same boy who’d shared his bed for the greater part of them.

 

“It’s ok” he said, trying to hide the tremor of his frustration “it was bound to happen”

 

“I wish it wasn’t”

 

“Zayn”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I love you too”

 

A smile grew pressed to his shoulder, where tears had formed wet roads and teeth marks remained. “Yeah, I know too”

 

Yet they didn’t sleep that night, not talking, just holding each other; because everything there was to talk about they’d already shared, and every piece of skin had already been explored. They just held each other until morning came and they were hauled out of their home, and taken to a public plaza for a public spectacle of the Country’s morale.

 

And then they were there, just two heads detached from their bodies, rotting in the middle of a public plaza, after a public spectacle of the Country’s morale.

 

“Zayn” Liam called “I did too, I loved you. I still do” the first rays of sunrise filtering through the clouds.

 

The silence would’ve been complete if not for the couple of dogs attempting to mate next to the stage.

 

“Zayn?” Liam called back, his eyelids heavy and his brain cottony with fog.

 

Yet Zayn didn’t answer back.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on tumblr here: http://sometimes-i-english.tumblr.com/ (because I'm lame and don't know yet how to put a link on the notes, sorry)


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